


Silver Lining

by AmberBrown



Series: Reading between the Lines [5]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Bullying, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21720136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: Porthos is injured by a man who has it in for both him and Aramis. Aramis tends to the injury. But does the forced closeness signal a change in direction for the pair?
Relationships: Aramis/Porthos
Series: Reading between the Lines [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542634
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	Silver Lining

A shout from the yard below them made both Aramis and Treville look down. Aramis could not help the gasp of worry at what he saw. The cadet that had been watching the gate was beckoning to two of his friends who were cleaning their guns outside the armoury. The cadets rushed forward to help, grabbing the injured Musketeer that had just stumbled through the gate. 

Porthos sank to his knees, he looked as though he would have crashed to the ground if the cadets were not holding him up.

Aramis ran down the stairs skidding to his knees in front of his friend to help support him. Porthos was panting, his head hanging down, he appeared to be exhausted. 

‘What happened?’ asked Aramis as he gently lifted Porthos’ head.

Porthos managed to kneel down, keeping one arm around the cadet on his right. He looked up at Aramis.

‘Deschamps,’ he said.

Aramis felt his blood boil at the single word. Deschamps had been a Musketeer cadet until he had taken to bullying Porthos and been dismissed thanks to Aramis’ intervention. The man had managed to get himself into the Red Guard and sought revenge on both Aramis and Porthos. Aramis had known they had not heard the last from the bitter Guardsman. 

Treville moved around Porthos, he looked at Aramis. 

‘Looks like he’s been slashed across the back,’ said the Captain before stepping forward to help his Musketeer to his feet. ‘Get the infirmary ready.’

Aramis did not need to be asked twice, he moved ahead of his Captain who was supporting Porthos on the short walk to the infirmary. Aramis was livid, he wanted to get Deschamps and rip him apart for what he had done. He had to force himself to remain calm, dealing with Porthos took priority. He had no idea how badly injured his friend was, although he hoped that he could deal with the wound himself rather than have to get a doctor in. Porthos would not like a stranger dealing with him. 

‘Paul,’ said Aramis to the cadet that was trotting beside Porthos and Treville, ‘get some water.’

The cadet nodded and peeled off, rushing across the yard to collect what he needed. Paul had started at the same time as Porthos and although he had not quite attained his commission was not far off. Porthos and Paul had been quite friendly from the start, the cadet’s worry for his friend was evident on his face. Aramis knew it was reflected on his own.

Aramis held the door open for Treville as he guided the injured man towards a bed. Aramis got his first look at the injury to Porthos' back.

A cut across his friends left shoulder towards his side. Aramis knew the wound would need stitching, a lot of stitching. He looked up when he realised Treville was looking at him.

'I can deal with it,' he said as he started to peel off his weapons and doublet.

Treville nodded. He crouched in front of Porthos who was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning forward slightly.

'Can you tell us what happened?' he asked.

Porthos managed to push himself up to sit straighter. Treville steadied him with a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

'I was coming back from the Palace,' he said. 'I'd taken the route by the river. There was a stretch where there was no one about, it was there…'

Porthos paused and sighed. He looked at Treville with a slightly guilty expression.

'I must have let my guard down. I'm sorry.'

Treville smiled as he started to help Porthos to undo his doublet.

'It happens to us all. After a day of guard duty and patrolling all you really want to do is switch off.'

Aramis made himself busy collecting what he would need to tend to his friend. He had to make a conscious effort to remain calm. Porthos needed his skill as a field medic, not  
a soldier. And certainly not an angry friend who wanted retribution for what had happened.

Porthos winced and tried to keep his cry of pain quiet as Treville eased his doublet off. 

When he had managed to catch his breath, the injured man continued.

'It was just him. He'd hidden in a doorway, tucked right out of sight, I heard him, but too late... I think he used his main gauche. Just one slash, but he made sure it counted.'

Aramis watched his friend slowly and painfully pull his shirt loose from his breeches with his right hand. Treville had to help him to pull it over his head. The wound was still bleeding, some areas had been agitated by the movements Porthos had been making.

Aramis indicated for Porthos to lie down. Treville helped him to swing his legs up. Porthos settled on his side. Aramis was glad his friend was facing away. It was bad enough the Captain could see his angry expression.

'I need to clean it first,' he said. 

Porthos nodded. 

Paul had quietly brought the water in as Porthos was stripping off his shirt. Aramis had shooed the cadet out again. It was obvious that Paul was concerned about his friend. Aramis did not want him getting in the way, although he knew Paul would not go far.

'After he sliced me', continued Porthos as Aramis started to clean the dried blood off, 'I managed to catch hold of him.'

Porthos hissed in pain. Aramis paused his work.

'It's alright,' said Porthos after a few seconds. 'Just get it done.'

Aramis went back to his work, he sat on the edge of the bed, one hand on Porthos arm.

Treville had moved to sit on the next bed. They both knew Aramis would not be able to stitch the wound on his own.

'He pushed me off,' continued Porthos, 'I probably did myself more harm by fighting back when I should have known I was in no state to do so.'

Treville leaned forward, 'I would have been disappointed if you hadn't at least tried to fight back.'

Aramis poured some alcohol on to a clean cloth after Porthos reacted more to the alcohol Aramis made eye contact with Treville. The Captain understood, he walked over to the window and made a gesture to someone. Paul reappeared his expression one of worry.

'Is he...?" stuttered the cadet.

'I ain't dead,' said Porthos with a chuckle. 'They need help to hold me still whilst Aramis stitches.'

Aramis nodded before reaching for the needle. Paul understood and moved forward, hesitating for a few sounds before Treville indicated for him to hold Porthos' legs still. Paul knelt on the edge of the bed and grasped Porthos' legs. Treville steadied Porthos shoulder, pinning the injured man's arm to his side. Aramis glanced at Treville and Paul who both nodded that they were ready. Treville gave Porthos a piece of leather to bite down on.

Pushing the needle into his friend's skin was hard. Aramis knew that to heal Porthos he had to cause him pain first, Porthos tensed up and cried out in pain, the sound muffled by the leather held in his mouth. Aramis continued to stitch. Porthos remained tense for some time. Treville and Paul had their work cut out keeping him still. More than once Paul was forced to lean over Porthos’ legs with all his weight to prevent the Musketeer from kicking them. They all sighed when the injured man passed out.

'He lasted longer than anyone I've ever met,' said Treville.

Paul stood up from the bed and glanced at the door.

'You can go,' said Treville.

As the cadet walked to the door with determination Treville stopped him.

'If I find out you've left the garrison in search of Deschamps...'

Paul stopped, his hand still on the door handle, he took a moment to calm his breathing before turning back. Aramis understood the cadet's motives. Paul had served with Porthos briefly in the infantry, he knew that Porthos was an honourable man and did not deserve the treatment he had received.

'Yes, Captain. Sorry Captain,' he said, his guilty look betraying his intention.

Treville waved Paul away, the cadet left without another word.

'That goes for you as well,' Treville said, looking sternly at Aramis.

Aramis found he could not respond; he went back to stitching. Treville leaned forward, laying his hand over Aramis', stilling him.

'You cannot deal with this using more violence.'

Aramis took a slow deep breath in the same way Paul had a few seconds before. He nodded.

'Good,' said Treville. 'I'll leave you to finish then. I'm going to talk to Richelieu. I know it probably won't do any good, but I should at least try.'

Aramis nodded. He had no intention of leaving Porthos alone. He did not want his friend to wake up without him there. Porthos was likely to be confused and certainly, in pain, Aramis did not want him to try to move. Aramis wanted to be there to reassure his friend that he was safe.

Now that Porthos was unconscious Aramis was able to stitch the wound quickly, he was not constantly having to readjust his position. It was unnerving to see his friend in such a vulnerable state. From looking at the scars on Porthos back and arms Aramis could see he had endured his fair share of stitches before. Aramis had seen Porthos without his shirt plenty of times when they had been training, but the scars did not seem as stark when the powerful man was busy defeating whichever cadet or Musketeer thought he could get the better of the garrison’s best brawler. 

Aramis finished the last stitch, he wiped away the droplets of blood that were left. Dressing the wound would have to wait until his friend was awake again, or he had some help to manipulate the injured man. 

Slowly, Aramis cleared away the water and his medical kit. He concentrated on keeping his breathing steady. He could not let what had happened to get the better of him. He knew that, like Paul, all he really wanted to do with deal with Deschamps. The man had attacked them both now. Aramis wondered if the attack on Porthos had been premeditated in the same way that the attack on him had been. Although only Deschamps was involved in Porthos’ assault, perhaps his little gang of hangers-on were not interested in revenge anymore. 

The Red Guardsman was probably not going to stop with his vendetta. Aramis knew Treville would have no luck with the Cardinal, the elitist man of God would not believe that one of his men had attacked a Musketeer. Or at least he would choose not to believe it. Much as Aramis would have like to deal with Deschamps he knew he could not. If he were seen attacking the soldier no amount of mitigating circumstances would exonerate him. The fact that Porthos had been responsible for killing two Red Guardsman would also go against them, despite the fact that Porthos was defending both himself and Aramis at the time. They were stuck. Aramis felt responsible for their predicament. 

If he had not stood up for Porthos and done the right thing reporting the cadet's behaviour to Treville, the cadets would not have been dismissed and not have felt the need to get their own revenge. The two sides were locked in a battle of wills which neither could really escape from. Aramis knew it would remain awkward. There was nothing he could do. 

A low moan snapped Aramis from his dark thoughts. He moved around the bed, crouching down beside Porthos who had his eyes screwed shut. He was obviously conscious but in some pain.

‘Try not to move too much,’ said Aramis softly.

He knew it was likely his friend was aware of his presence but did not want to startle him into moving suddenly. Porthos managed a nod and slowly opened his eyes.

‘I need to dress the wound,’ Aramis said with as friendly a smile as he could muster at that moment, his concern outweighing all other feelings. 

Porthos nodded again. Aramis slowly helped Porthos into a sitting position. Just swinging his legs off the bed had been agony for the ailing Musketeer. Aramis was forced to hold Porthos’ shoulder firmly until the man could steady himself. He sat on the edge of the bed quite stiffly. 

Aramis looked at him for a few seconds. Porthos looked back and smiled. 

‘I’m not going anywhere, get what you need. I’ll be fine for a moment,’ Porthos said, his pain-filled voice sincere.

Aramis nodded before moving to gather what he needed. 

MMMM

Porthos watched his friend cross the room. Aramis had the look of a coiled snake. When he had woken Aramis had been quick to offer him comfort, but there was something else. Anger. Not directed at him, anger directed at Deschamps. Porthos could understand. He was pretty angry himself.

But Aramis' anger had a dangerous edge to it. Porthos was worried his friend might do something stupid. Aramis had a bit of a reputation for acting without thinking things through. Sometimes the trait was useful, but sometimes it was foolhardy. 

When Aramis turned back to him, he had carefully hidden the anger away. Porthos knew his friend was good at hiding things and he disliked that he felt the need to hide anything, particularly from him. 

Aramis knelt in front of him unwinding the bandage, he looked at Porthos for a few seconds. 

‘We have to be more vigilant; I’m not blaming you for what happened,’ said Aramis. ‘You didn’t ask to be attacked by merely walking along a quiet street, but we know he’s out to get us.’

Porthos nodded, ‘I feel at fault for dropping my guard, I know the Captain said it could happen to anyone...but as you said, I should have been expecting it.’

‘We shouldn’t have to expect it,’ muttered Aramis with a shake of his head. ‘We shouldn’t have to worry that we - soldiers - are going to be attacked by other soldiers. It’s ridiculous.’

Porthos smiled, ‘guess we annoyed the wrong person.’

Aramis leaned forward, wrapping the bandage around Porthos chest, his fingers brushing over the skin. Aramis, who could kill a man one minute, then tend to a wound the next, had a lightness of touch that surprised Porthos. When Aramis had been cleaning the wound, he had laid his hand on Porthos arm, despite the pain he was in, Porthos had enjoyed the touch, the feeling of closeness. He knew that Aramis was touching him because he was tending to his injuries but Porthos embraced it until he noticed the slight shake in his friend’s hand. 

Porthos reached up and rested his own hand over Aramis’. Aramis looked at him for a few seconds, Porthos rubbed his thumb across Aramis’ hand, a small gesture but it stopped the shake. Aramis looked down.

‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I’m just so annoyed. All this because Deschamps and his gang of...followers think they are better than us.’

Porthos noted that Aramis did not move his hand, did not pull away from the touch. Porthos had half expected his friend to move away, pretend nothing had happened; that they had not just shared a moment. A moment of what Porthos was unsure, but something had passed between them. 

Could Porthos take the moment as a victory in his attempt to get Aramis to accept who he was and stop hiding it? Porthos decided he would. Had his injury helped him to connect further with Aramis? A painful and unwelcome method, but Porthos could put that aside if it helped his friend. 

‘You know you-’

Porthos words were cut off by the door to the infirmary being pushed open. Aramis moved his hand quickly, going back to securing the bandage. Treville had not seen what they were doing when he entered the room, he had turned to push the door closed behind him. By the time he looked back, Aramis was tying the bandage before standing up. Treville gestured for Porthos to stay where he was.

‘You’re on light duties,’ said the Captain, ‘and no duties for the next few hours.’

Aramis nodded, ‘I’ll mix you up a painkiller, then you should try to sleep for a bit. But you need to take it very easy for a few days. I’ll not have my stitches pulled.’

Porthos marvelled at the facade. Aramis was back to his normal self, the self that Porthos knew was not entirely real. The moment between them had gone, fizzled out with the untimely arrival of their Captain. 

Aramis began to put together the painkilling drink, chopping up a couple of herbs that were kept in the infirmary for medicinal purposes. 

‘I talked to the Cardinal,’ said Treville, ‘he denied that any of his men would attack a Musketeer. Which is what we expected. I think we all know that this is going to continue. Please, both of you, be careful. And I also do not want to see Deschamps or any of his friends injured. We do not need to sink to their level. With luck, they will grow bored of harassing you both.’

Treville glared at Aramis for a few moments until the Musketeer nodded. Porthos nodded straight away when Treville looked at him.

‘Good, now, Aramis,’ continued Treville. ‘I thought you might like to know that Marsac is back.’

**Author's Note:**

> ...to be continued...


End file.
